


pillow talk between countries

by byjosten



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Laurent fucks himself and Damen fucks a fleshlight, Long distance smut, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Needy Damen, Phone Sex, Sex Talk, Sex Toys, Smut, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:03:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23478898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byjosten/pseuds/byjosten
Summary: Damen just really misses his boyfriend, and his boyfriend really misses him, and they happen to venture into new territory
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 66





	pillow talk between countries

**Author's Note:**

> this was just a total self-indulgent, kind of came into my head one time, and I've heard somewhere that people lowkey like my Lamen stuff *eye emoji*
> 
> as always, come find me on tumblr @byjosten or twitter @sdreidwrites

Even after spending considerable time in each other’s countries, Damen hadn’t quite gotten used to the different…  _ customs _ . He could never get used to the shameless way he would be tugged into an alcove, pinned by slim hips and careful fingers, and didn’t necessarily have to take care with who saw. He couldn’t get used to the blatant displays of pleasure in the throne room, or the way everyone watched, waited, gambled, hung on every moan and twist of a body.

As much as the Veretian ways had his entire being on edge, it also sent shivers through him, a strange lick of curiosity that he hadn’t worked out how to curb yet. When in Vere, Damen sat next to Laurent and watched whatever display offered itself up. And whilst he was still unaccustomed to it, Damen couldn’t help be affected sometimes. Never by the display, only ever by the concept with himself in a compromising scenario with Laurent.

His gaze would slide to Laurent, who would be watching Damen with equal boredom and curiosity. There were questions, words, pooling in his eyes. They were things Damen never pressed to hear, nor things that Laurent offered up to say. But they were there, and the Akielon wondered if he looked the same.

One night he pressed Laurent back into the sheets of his bed, fucked him slowly, but it wasn’t to their activities that he came. It was the thought of Laurent watching  _ him _ , of having Damen on display, that had Damen gasping a warning of his orgasm.

He shelved the thought, stored it away until he could figure it out further. But when he was alone in Akielos, Laurent a million miles away in Vere, Damen was itching for  _ something _ . His balcony doors were flung open, the breeze dancing over his bare chest and lifting the sheets that he’d tucked around his hips. Damen made a pleased hum as he trailed a finger up his torso, circling a finger around one nipple, before drawing it across to the other.

He shifted, hips lifting towards the sheets to find a semblance of friction.

He was not a man of a lot of self pleasure, not when he had Laurent there so often. But the blonde prince wasn’t there, not in any way. He was in his own country, with his own rules and customs, and Damen was woefully alone. He looked towards the balcony, his mind once again skirting around the idea of being watched.

He dipped into the thought further, let his mind explore it for a brief second, before registering the groan rising from his throat, the hitch of his chest as he thought about it.

Damen gave himself another minute or two to consider what he was doing before slipping from his bed. In Akielon they could wrestle naked but to publicly display intimate moments? It was  _ wrong _ . But it was wrong with a partner. If Damen sat on his balcony and glided touches over himself, just out of view but still out in the open, was it a crime?

He strayed from the railing, instead settling on the tiled floor. A gasp fell from his lips at the cool ground against his heated skin as he settled back against the balcony railing. He was almost fully hard, the sensitivity of the breeze and the thought of what he wanted to do travelling straight to his cock.

Damen tilted his head back to look at the sky, imagining Laurent looking at the same one, perhaps thinking about him, and wrapped his fingers around his cock. At first he stifled each noise, made sure he only breathed through his nose so he wouldn’t accidentally make a sound he wanted nobody to hear.

But then he thought of Laurent finding him like that, of doing exactly this for Laurent to watch. Not touch--just watch, to enjoy, to find pleasure in Damen pleasuring himself. He could see the heaviness to Laurent’s eyes, the way his throat might work around a swallow, his hands clenching to keep himself controlled. Would he struggle to breathe evenly? Would he whisper Damen’s name?

A moan sounded without him realising he had done anything to cause it. But he  _ hadn’t _ ; it was merely the thought that had the noise coaxed out. In the midst of his thoughts, his fist had loosened around himself, but he barely tightened it again. Just ran his palm over lightly, teasing, making him arch his back and seek friction desperately the way Laurent might make him do.

Then: a noise had him startling. His head whipped around to look towards his room, where his phone screen lit up. Damen hastily stood, knowing the only person who would call him at this time of night was Laurent. He snatched up his phone, retreating back to the balcony.

No video--just a call. No need for Laurent to see his chest rising and falling quickly, or the dazed look in his eyes. If he just cleared his throat, he could be composed. That was all he had to do.

Damen swiped up--and inhaled deeply.

“Damianos.”

The name sent a lick of fire through Damen’s stomach.

“Laurent.” His voice was  _ definitely  _ not shaking. It  _ definitely  _ did not crack on those two syllables.

There was a pause of the other end, like Laurent was considering how he sounded.

So Damen went ahead before Laurent could suggest or guess anything. “I missed you. There was a nice sunset over the beach in Ios, and I wished I could have seen it with you.”

Laurent hummed. “I miss those sunsets.” Damen nodded even if he couldn’t see. “I miss the way your curls dried in the evening sun after we swam.” Even if his voice was lulling Damen back into a place where his tipped back, eyes slipping closed, warmth spreading through him as his legs fell open once more. “Or the way sweat glistened on your skin when the afternoons got too hot.”

He fell quiet, and Damen wondered if Laurent thought about the last time they had been on the beach in Ios, the cave where the sea only just washed in at the opening--how they had spent a long time in there, their combined noises echoing off the cave walls.

Damen remembered the spread of Laurent’s blonde hair, the curve of pale shoulders, against the golden sand, and the image brought more reminders that had him struggling not to let his hand go back between his legs.

But he let it fall to his thigh, even as his fingers curled, itching to reach further.

Laurent was talking but Damen was hardly listening. He heard the noise but not the words, and the noise was  _ enough _ .

“Wouldn’t you agree Damianos?”

Damen was caught off-guard at the question, clear he had missed something. “What?”

A small laugh. “I asked, don't you think that it would be good to spend some time together soon.”

At the deep, smooth way he spoke, Damen bit back a groan, at the thought of having Laurent beside him, with him-- _ watching him _ . If he could see him now, thighs spread, cock hard, hand aching to  _ touch.  _ But whether it was himself or Laurent, he didn’t know.  _ Both _ .

The thought sang in his mind, taking shape, imagining both of them out there on the balcony, chests pressed together, mouths on skin.

“What are you doing?” Laurent asked.

“I’m just--” Damen fumbled, trying to find a fake answer, some way of saying he wasn’t desperately trying not to touch himself. “Reading a book.”

“ _ A book _ ?”

Damen could have hit himself. If there was any one way for Laurent to know he was lying it was by saying that. Damen did not read for leisure; he read out of necessity whenever he had to. And he didn’t read books; he read maps, letters, reports. Not  _ books _ .

“What are you doing?” he asked instead.

“I’m definitely  _ not reading _ ,” Laurent answered, in a way that had Damen wondering what, exactly, the Prince of Vere was doing and why he had called. “I’m… Gaming.”

Damen, despite where his hand was, couldn’t help but laugh. “Laurent, you never play games. Not of those sorts, anyway.”

“Maybe stop pretending to me and I’ll stop pretending to you. Tell me what you’re doing.”

But he didn’t have to. The smooth velvety sound of Laurent’s voice had Damen’s cock twitching in his hand, a whine escaping him before he could control it.

“I told you,” he said tightly. “I’m reading a book. It’s required reading.”

There was a considering hum from Laurent. “How long have you been touching yourself, Damen?”

He let out a strained, forced laugh. “I’m not--”

“I know how you sound when your hand is around yourself.”

Damen couldn’t help the drawn-out groan at that. Damen was a vocal lover; of course Laurent would know every different sound he made, how his noises changed with different actions.

“Tell me,” Laurent said.

Damen closed his eyes at the demand. “A while.”

“How?”

He asked because they knew Damen rarely lasted long. “Slowly, pausing.  _ Edging _ .” He shouldn’t be shy, not after all they had done in person, but this was new. This was different, and it sent a strange but good warmth through him.

“You can’t pretend with me, do you understand? Your voice gave you away from the first second. You probably look as wrecked as you sound.”

Damen’s fist tightened around his cock, a moan muffled into his palm.

“You can go faster,” Laurent said.

Damen didn’t know what to do. His chest heaved at the suggestion, at the concept of Laurent telling him to touch himself when for the entirety of their relationship, he’d instructed Damen how to touch  _ him _ . But this… This was something. This had his cock harder than he thought was possible without visual stimulation.

And Laurent was visual all over, yet here he was, working Damen up without even laying a finger on him.

“Damen.”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Damen said, more a  _ Yes, I’m listening. Yes, I’m going faster _ . His hand sped up, hips lifting as he braced himself back against the balcony. He moaned again, trying to stifle the sound, all too aware of how near his mouth was to the phone.

“Oh, don’t quieten yourself. Spare no mind for volume, it’s all I have to go on right now.” There was a breathy exhale on the other end of the phone. Damen closed his eyes, mouth parting, as he imagined how Laurent looked. “Don’t deprive me of your beautiful sounds. You know I love them.”

Damen always thought he sounded odd--too much, too loud, too  _ everything _ , to ever sound pleasing to his boyfriend. Yet there was Laurent coaxing the noises out into the open, reaching him across the distance.

“Are you-- _ fuck _ \--” His hand stroked faster, his head tipping back as he stared up at the stars. He felt so exposed, so seen, even if there was nobody around. It sent another wave of desire through him, and he wanted more. More of Laurent, more noises from him, more  _ description _ . “Are you touching yourself too?”

There was a quiet laugh. “That’s why I called you. I was looking at the pictures you sent me last week, and I couldn’t help myself. I only intended to call you to tell you how you made me react but now…”

“But now?” Damen echoed, breathless as his hand continued.

“Now I want to tell you so much more.”

Damen could see it in his mind. His thighs spread, bracketing Laurent’s pale ones, fingers tight in his blonde hair. Laurent’s hand around his cock, his free hand keeping Damen still, a hold he could easily push out of but had no desire to. He’d keep Damen there, still and desperate, whining, begging, hand alternating speeds to stroke his cock. Damen would cry out, a moaning mess under Laurent’s knowing hand, and even when he came, Laurent wouldn’t stop.

Damen moaned down the phone, uncontrolled, broken with desire, as he stroked himself, breaths leaving him fast and short.

“Or maybe you’re the ones with much more to tell,” Laurent suggested lightly. Oh, his voice was so teasing, so alluring, that Damen wanted to come to it already. But he wasn’t there, couldn’t bring himself there so easily, not without looking at Laurent, not without squeezing his eyes shut and remembering the way his gaze took every inch of Damen in. Even if it was only a little bit of skin, Laurent gazed at him like it was  _ everything _ . A slow, tracking look that had Damen moaning softly to remember, that had him twitching and aching and  _ hard _ . The soft uplift to his focus, the way his ice-blue eyes made sure to take every part of him in, the small smile tugged at his lips.

“Damen.”

His name brought him back, a sharp reminder. He could not lose himself in a call, not when Laurent couldn’t see him.

Yet all he could do was whimper helplessly.

“ _ Please _ ,” he moaned. His thighs tensed, stomach tightening, cock heavy in his hands. He was almost there, hanging on an edge he couldn’t quite get himself over.

“My beautiful Akielon,” Laurent said. “So needy, even when we’re not together. Can you tell me what caused this for you?”

Laurent always made him talk. Made him say what he wanted even when it was clear, made him verbalise his desires when all Damen wanted to do was keen at touches. “ _ You _ ,” he groaned. “Thinking about you watching me. Not really even touching me, but just watching. I like--” He cursed when his fist flew off his cock he was working himself so fast. He bucked back up into his hands, moaning softly. By now his breathing was shot and he struggled to keep his voice even. But he heard the quiet sounds from Laurent’s end, the small tells that he was worked up.

And if Damen could see, he would know the Veretian’s cheeks would be pink, his neck flushed.

“What do you like?” Laurent asked. Just the sound of how breathless he sounded had Damen gasping that he was close.

“I like how you look at me,” he said. “I like… How that makes me feel. Being seen, being  _ observed, enjoyed _ , you knowing I’m enjoying myself just as much.”

“Oh, Damen.”

“Fuck, Laurent. I wish I could see you now.”

“Next time,” Laurent said, and it was a promise. A delicious promise that had heat razing through Damen’s insides. “I have something for us for next time. But for now, think about me. I’m thinking about you, about how you fucked me the night before you left. The first time. Do you remember? The second time was slower, but the first time was desperate. You could barely contain yourself, Damianos. All I had to do was run a finger down your thigh and you were close to coming.”

Damen’s mouth opened, a moan falling freely. “ _ Please _ .”

“You almost couldn’t fuck me properly, you were so…  _ Enthusiastic. _ I asked you to hold me down, all that contained strength and power, but you held me so gently in the end. I remember how your fingers felt on my skin, your face as you fucked me. Damen it was…” He didn’t finish, because there was a small groan from his end that had Damen whining.

“God, Laurent.”

“My fingers aren’t enough,” Laurent said almost longingly. “I wish I had you here.”

All he could do was fist himself, noises spilling out onto the balcony, thinking about Laurent fucking himself on his own fingers.

“Do you know what I love to do with you?”

“ _ Laurent _ .”

He was getting so close.

“Answer me.”

“I don’t know,” Damen choked out. “Please, Laurent, I’m  _ close _ .”

His hips pushed up, needing more. Laurent’s fingers were longer, thinner than his, easily bringing him to orgasm. He turned, cock brushing against the smooth marble of the balcony, and he groaned deeply.  _ This _ . His fingers around himself, the head of his cock finding friction on the floor, Laurent’s voice in his ear.

He tried again. “What do you love to do with me?”

There was a pleased hum. “Stroking you until you tell me you’re close, edging you several times. Then stopping so I can ride you.” A high-pitched, soft whine. “God, Damen, then-- _ then-- _ you’re so hot inside me, I feel you twitch because you’re so sensitive.”

“But you make me wait,” Damen said. “You always make me wait.”

“You can barely stand it,” Laurent said. “But you do, in the end. You wait, you don’t come too soon. You’re always good for me, aren’t you?”

He was right there, right on that edge, about to hurtle over it. “ _ Please, please, ple-- _ ”

“You’re so good, Damen.”

And there he was, that simple praise sending him over so hard that he let out a noise so uncontrolled he was sure he was too loud. He pulsed in his own hands, breath coming hard and fast as he whispered Laurent’s name over and over, hand still moving on his cock. Even when there was his own release on his hands, he kept moving until he whimpered, too sensitive to carry on without Laurent there to push him into the desperate pleasure of oversensitivity.

“Laurent,” he murmured, voice slurred, strained.

There was a laboured pause, a harsh breath, and then-- “ _ Damen--fuck,  _ I’m--” and words were lost in the muffled noise Laurent let out out as he orgasmed. Damen ached to have seen it, thinking about his boyfriend coming from Damen’s noises and Damen’s words and thinking about Damen. The thought had him going feral, the distance way too much between them.

He turned onto his back, staring at the dark sky. “I wish I was there.” He still sounded breathless.

“Next time I want to watch you,” Laurent said down the phone. To Damen’s delight he sounded just as fucked.

He pointedly ignored the way he twitched in his own hand at that. He didn’t do anything, just pulled his hand away and gathered himself, letting his breath even out as Laurent talked him down.

They talked about little things, insignificant things that passed the time but it didn’t matter because it was still Laurent’s voice on the other end and still his presence clouding Damen.

And in the back of his mind, over the next few days, all Damen could think about was how Laurent’s gaze was enough to take him apart slowly--how he yearned to show him more, to watch those eyes travel downward, finding more skin that Damen showed, inch by inch.

Several nights later, he shut the door to his room, back pressed against it, and let out a long breath. He unlocked his phone and got Laurent’s name up. With a trembling finger, he clicked the camera button.

*


End file.
